Free Bird Read online

“Thank you,” I say quietly.

  “Of course,” he says turning toward the hallway, then pausing and looking back.

  “You have a very beautiful voice,” he says and I get that warmth all through my veins.

  “Thank you,” I barely get out, before he’s gone and I hear his boots descending on the wooden steps.

  **

  The next day my mom wants Sweetie and me to go into town and see what kind of stores they have; basically, if there’s anything worth her time. But Sweetie’s convinced there’s a fairy in her closet and is determined to catch it, so I head off alone.

  Even though this town is small, there’s plenty of places in downtown. There’s the diner of course and a malt shop a couple buildings down, but there’s other restaurants and a doughnut place that closes by noon every day. I also see a decent sized grocery store, pharmacy, several specialty clothing stores and boutiques, a dog groomer, a record store, the movie theatre, an auto repair shop, and tons more. Way more than the town we come from.

  I find myself just walking once I pass through downtown, looking at all the beautiful homes and properties. It’s a gorgeous day and I enjoy the summer sun and slight breeze, all of which change once I reach city limits and the desert greets me. Then the heat becomes almost unbearable, but it still feels good on my body. I walk down a dirt road, houses facing the endless sand on one side of me. These houses are spread out more over here. I’m in my head, thinking of a story to tell Sweetie about seeing a dragon or something out here when I hear an engine roaring behind me. Which has me stopping to look back.

  It’s Sven, the guy who was helping us move in yesterday. Something about seeing him on a bike makes me think of all things Marlon Brando and James Dean. He slows as he approaches and then stops once he’s beside me.

  “Hi there.” I smile, putting a hand up to shield my eyes from the sun. The sun’s rays are magnified by the blond hair and tan skin of the man before me.

  “What are you doing all the way out here?” he asks.

  “Just walking,” I shrug. “You?”

  He turns and lifts his chin, gesturing to the desert before us. “Was gonna go for a ride out there,” he tells me.

  “Oh,” I say, letting my voice reflect only a hint of how exciting that sounds.

  “You wanna go for a ride with me?” he proposes.

  I nod, biting my lower lip because there’s nothing I’ve ever wanted to do more.

  “Ever been on a bike before?”

  “Uh just a dirt bike- is that what those things are called? Is it like that?”

  “Yeah, yeah, it’s just like that.”

  I step closer, and he puts a hand out for me to lean on as I drape a leg over the seat he’s sharing with me. Once situated, I bring my hands around his waist and lean into him, his hands move onto the handlebars and the engine revs and I squeal with a jolt. Sven turns and shows me his profile, including a smile showing his teeth and I bite my lip again to resist kissing his cheek, thankful he can’t see me.

  We take off down the road, the vibration almost too aggressive and it takes some time to adjust to. Sven turns toward the desert before he really let’s go and we fly. I feel…free. Nothing else seems to matter but this moment, this feeling, this man I’m sharing this with. I feel alive and slightly terrified, such a weird in-between that I love. We ride and ride for what feels like forever and it’s so strange to be the only two people around, being we haven’t passed anyone since I got on the bike. Suddenly, Sven takes us off the road and onto the sand, kicking it up in a cloud and blowing it into the air behind us. Then notice something, a small mirage maybe, but as we draw closer, I can see it really is something. Tucked between a large gathering of cliff and rock, there’s a little cave. The bike slows as we get closer before stopping. We both get off, his hands helping me. My body’s vibrating and it feels weird to be on solid ground.

  “You good?” he asks.

  I nod and give him a smile.

  “Your body feel electric?” he asks, reaching up and tucking hair behind my ear.

  “Yeah,” I whisper. “Exactly like.”

  He smiles, not a full grin, but one that has me feeling it through that electricity. Turning away, he begins for the cave and I follow, happy to take some relief from the sun. I’m surprised when I see lawn chairs folded against a wall and Sven hurriedly unfolds two and sets them side by side. The air inside the shady cave feels cold and almost shocking, due to the difference in temperature. I sit and watch Sven disappear further inside, pulling something from the ground, a metal box. He opens it, retrieving two beers.

  “What is this place?” I question.

  “Me and my friends just come here to hang out; we have parties and whatever. Found it when we were teenagers. It’s called Galaxy Field.”

  He hands me the cold beer as he sits and pulls the tab from his beer before swigging. I like that he didn’t open mine for some reason. When I take a drink of the chilled liquid, my skin breaks out in goosebumps. I say nothing, but Sven leans forward and pulls his jacket off, placing it over my shoulders. It’s warm and smells of him and sweat and leather.

  “Where you from?” he asks.

  “Mississippi.”

  “I been there. I trained there for a few months.”

  He says this, looking out in front of us. Training? I want to ask, for what but feel like he doesn’t want me to.

  “What did ya think?” I smile.

  He looks at me. “It was all right, like this place I guess,” he says with a shrug.

  “They are quite similar,” I nod.

  “You from here I take it?”

  “Yeah, but my dad was born overseas. They all came here after the second world war- all my friends’ dads. They found out about this place from someone they were stationed with who went on and on about it. After the war, it sounded nice to them I guess…it’s safe, nowhere.”

  I nod, but I didn’t know anyone in the war and my dad was too young at the time to go. We talk for a while, about nothing and everything. But when I mention his parents he eagerly stands and folds his chair, and I do the same only slower because I don’t know how to react.

  “I’ll take ya home,” he says and I hand him back his jacket.

  He tucks it into a side pouch on the bike and gets on, not saying anything as I join him.

  “Don’t drop me off at home, stop down the street,” I say, and he nods as we take off back toward Plantain.

  “Thank you,” I tell him, getting off the bike.

  “I’m sorry…about, back there-”

  “No, it’s okay…I get it.” I nod, because I do. I absolutely understand not wanting to talk about parents and family. “Well, maybe I’ll see ya around,” I state, knowing that in this small town, I will.

  He gives me a smile, the kind that has me leaning and wanting to kiss him. But then I feel his hand on mine, giving it a squeeze before returning it to the handlebar.

  “Enjoy the rest of your day,” he tells me, and then takes off.

  Walking back to the house, I feel fluttery and still that vibration from the bike is pulsing. Entering the house, the screen door claps and instantly I hear shoes charging down the wood-floored hallway.

  “I know we aren’t living in Rome, so how long does it take to walk down three streets of a town?” Gaye hollers as she comes toward me.

  “I stopped and got something to eat,” I reply, moving to pass her and head for the steps when she grabs my wrist and halts me.

  “You smell like a pig, a nasty dirty pig. Where were you?” she says through clenched teeth, eyes blazing.

  “None of your business,” I tell her, jerking my arm free and jogging up the steps.

  My demeanor changes when I see Sweetie standing at the landing and I smile as I reach out for her.

  “Guess what I saw today?” I ask her. “A huge red dragon.”

  2

  FAYE

  Sven. I never thought a name could be said so many times in your brain that it take
s on its own feeling. It’s a melodic name, with flow and rolls off the tongue. I didn’t see him anymore that day, but every time I heard boots on the wood floor, I wondered. Nothing good would come of me getting involved with someone like him. For one, he’s clearly a man, like an established, mid-twenties man. Not that that’s bad, but he’s older than me by a few years I’d say. Two, Gaye would never let me date anyone like him. As much as I want to seem like I could care a less about what Gaye says, it’s still ingrained in me to please her, to try to make her proud of me and not rock the boat. Ever since leaving the pageant circuit and everything else that’s happened, I still want to make her love me, and I know she loved me most back then, when I did what she wanted. She also complained the entire time we ate dinner how those “dirty men” touched all our things and we all needed to be aware if anything of ours is missing from the boxes.

  Sweetie and I helped Gaye during the day with trying to get the house in order. We were all living in one wing of the house while construction began on the other wing. We cleaned well enough to not cough every time we inhaled a deep breath, but not overly so, since it would eventually be ripped out and reconstructed. When that happened, we’d move into the other newly renovated wing.

  When we were done doing chores or whatever else Gaye needed done, we’d explore. The backyard lost its excitement when the landscaping company came and started pulling just about everything out of the ground. So, we’d ride our bikes around the neighborhood or I’d pull her in the wagon up to Main Street where we’d go to the malt shop, or candy store. A few times we went and saw a movie at the cinema.

  I loved spending my days with her. After dinner and her bath, we’d cuddle into her bed, the windows open and the summer breeze blowing in as I read her a story by flashlight. But as usual, when my mom sees Sweetie and me getting too close, she weasels in and starts doing things with her, which is good but I know her intentions aren’t to make Sweetie happy.

  I’d like to say I forgot Sven, but I didn’t. Anytime we were out and about in the streets of Plantain, my eyes scanned faces, with no luck. Maybe he didn’t live here or something; that was possible. And I was beginning to think that was the case, until one afternoon when Sweetie and I walked in after a bike ride to hear Gaye arguing with my dad.

  “Those dirty men again? You want them here in the house, working?” she demands loudly.

  My dad, as usual is standing there with his hands on his hips, looking down at her as she continues to tell him her opinion while he continues to repeat her name until she stops.

  “Gaye, Gaye…this is a small town, Gaye. What did you expect?”

  “You to hire someone from somewhere else and bring them here,” she states.

  “For double the money and probably double the time,” Dad replies.

  Daddy is a businessman; he knows what he’s doing. He works on deals all day. While Gaye doesn’t do anything to contribute and I think she just likes to be a thorn in everyone’s side. But the mention of the workers has my heart racing. Could it be? Could Sven be coming back to work on the house? It was possible, since I didn’t see a ton of men his age around town.

  After running some errands for Gaye, I walk back to the house with paper shopping bags in each arm. The sound of hammering and materials being broken and torn down alerts my ears. Construction must be starting on the house. As I walk closer, the house can be seen from the street now, since most of the ivy and Spanish moss have been cleared away. I see wood and other materials on the large front lawn and hear unfamiliar men’s voices. I’m more than happy that the rebirth of the house is underway, and I know this place will look amazing when it’s finished.

  Walking up the gravel driveway, I notice the front door’s open and at the same moment, Sven comes walking out. The sleeves of his t-shirt are rolled up, which emphasizes the width of his shoulders and the definition of his biceps. I hadn’t realized in our last encounter just how big of a man he is. A tool belt is secured around his waist and he has a cigarette tucked behind his ear. He says something behind him as he begins down the porch steps and then he notices me, a smile brightening his rugged face.

  “Jack of many trades I see.” I smile and stop walking just before him.

  “I do what I can.” He shrugs a shoulder.

  “Well, it’s nice to see you again,” I say.

  Why do I feel like I can’t come up with words when he’s looking at me? His blue eyes regarding me so intensely, and his smile never wavers, causing that warmth inside me again.

  “Going to be putting on another show this afternoon?” he asks with raised brows.

  I look at him confused, cocking my head to the side a little.

  “Singing,” he rushes out. “You were singin’ last time,” he adds.

  “Oh,” I laugh, “um maybe, if you’re lucky.” I smile.

  “I’m already feelin’ lucky today,” he says with a deep exhale and I take that to mean because he’s seen me.

  I swallow and feel a heat creep over my cheeks and chest.

  “Oh,” I exhale.

  “Sven! Kom igjen!” a male voice shouts down from an upstairs window.

  “I guess I should get back to work,” he tells me after giving the guy in the window a look of annoyance.

  “I guess I should get inside, I don’t want the ice cream to melt,” I say with a dorky little giggle and feel like an idiot.

  He looks at me thoughtfully and I start for the front porch steps before I can make myself look any sillier.

  “See you around,” I say over my shoulder.

  “Hey,” he calls out, and I stop and turn to face him, adjusting the bags in my arms. “You look pretty today,” he says just before walking around the house and out of sight.

  I think I stand there for minutes, feeling the bags slipping in my arms due to sweat from my overheated skin. It takes Sweetie coming to the screen door and asking me what I’m doing, to get my butt in gear.

  The next few days, I see him everywhere. Coincidently exiting the house as I approach, in the diner as Sweetie and I ride our bikes down Main Street. I have a crush, an honest to goodness crush. It feels like it’s been forever since I’ve had that, but even if I did as a teenager, it was nothing like this. Maybe it’s because I’m a woman now, and I understand what it really means when you’re attracted to someone. This feels adult, grown-up. I want to know him, but I also understand I won’t see him after the summer, and that bothers me. It’s when I think about never seeing his icy blue gaze again that I understand my real attraction to him. Yes, he’s clearly physically attractive, but it’s the mystery of him, the way he looks at me like I’m a woman and not a beauty queen, the way he took time to play along with a little girl’s dragon fantasies, that makes him so intriguing and genuine. I’ve never known anyone that just seemed so complex and layered before.

  We don’t really make contact again until a week or so later. Sweetie and I are riding bikes around Plantain one evening when the chain on her bike comes off. I try to fix it, but it won’t stay. We’re across town from home, a long walk for Sweetie and even harder one for me if I have to push my bike and carry hers. I’m trying to recall where the nearest payphone is so I can call my dad to come pick us up, when a rusty blue pick-up truck turns down the street. Slowing down just in front of us, Sven leans out the opened window.

  “Hi,” I greet him with a smile.

  “Ladies.” He smiles back at me and then looks down at Sweetie.

  She’s upset about her bike and crying because she thinks we won’t make it home.

  “What’s the matter?” he asks with furrowed brows and a voice full of concern as he puts the truck in park.

  Sweetie covers her face and starts crying and I place my hand on the top of her head.

  “I can’t get the chain back on her bike,” I tell him.

  “Oh,” he says in a tone like he doesn’t get why Sweetie’s so upset over something so small and easily fixable. He must not have experience around young kids, wh
o equate something like this to the end of the world.

  “She loves this bike. She’s scared it can’t be fixed.”

  “Well, wouldn’t you know that not only do I come from a long line of dragon tamers, we’re also master bike fixers,” he states, and instantly Sweetie’s lifting her head.

  “You are?” she sniffles.

  “You bet,” he confirms with a nod, opening the car door and getting out of the still running truck. He reaches down and manhandles the bikes like they weigh nothing, placing them in the back of the truck.

  “If you just wanna give us a ride home, my dad-”

  “I just live up the road,” he says. “Gimme five minutes, then I’ll drive you guys home.”

  Sweetie’s looking up at me with hopes I’ll say yes, like Sven’s the only one who can fix her beloved bike.

  “Thank you,” I say to him with a smile. We get in the truck, Sweetie sitting between us on the bench seat. The sun is beginning to set- “Heart of Gold” by Neil Young is playing softly on the radio and I look at Sven out of the corner of my eye. His hands are dirty, even his forearms, and he’s sweaty. I know he’s just gotten off work at the house and was probably on his way home.

  “I really appreciate-”

  “Look!” Sweetie exclaims and points her fingers out Sven’s window towards the desert. Her sudden outburst startles Sven and the truck jerks. We all look over to where she’s pointing.

  “What?” Sven asks.

  Sweetie sighs and drops her hand. “I thought I saw a dragon tail.”

  Sven looks down at her and smiles. “I have a pair of really good binoculars. You can use them to look out there while I fix your bike.”

  “Wow, really?”

  Sven nods and I find myself smiling at him, at his words and just the happiness he never fails to give her. The houses are sparse back here and I gaze at the giant white house with navy colored shutters and wraparound porch as we drive up. Sven pulls past the house to a massive barn-like garage.

  “I live in the loft,” he tells me before I can ask.

  “It’s beautiful here,” I say, admiring the trees and privacy of the location.